Lover Boy
by jassmarie19
Summary: A Dally/Angela story. 'Nuf said. It's rated M for a reason
1. Chapter 1

You can't help but notice that the skirt you're currently wearing was too short to be considered decent, but that's exactly how you want it. It gets you attention, and that's what you live for. You love the feel of everybody's eyes on you, not just because of who your brother is, but also because of how you look. Your blue-black hair is curled to your waist, even though most other girls wear their hair straight, but you aren't like other girls and everyone knows it, even your brother, Tim, who is fiercely protective of you because of it.

You aren't necessarily looking for action tonight, just to turn a few dozen heads. If you get in a fight, you get in a fight. You break up a relationship, you break up a relationship. What will happen is going to happen, no matter what.

You look up at the sky. It's getting dark fast and the skirt you're wearing would probably get you picked up on this side of town, so you decide to go to Buck's. You walk through the door and the eyes closest to the door turn on you. They nudge their neighbors and soon all eyes are on you. Well, almost all. You see Dallas Winston slouching against the bar waiting on a drink as he chats up a busty blond, but you know its all just a show. She's just a plaything, something to keep him occupied until you showed up. Even his refusal to acknowledge your arrival is part of his game. Well you can play games too.

You walk over to the closest guy (a Brumly guy. Kind of scrawny, but cute enough.) and sit down next to him. You take his drink, down the remainder, and shoot him a winning smile. He smiles back and turns his full attention on you. He probably doesn't even recognize you, but that's okay. It'll make it more humorous when Dally comes over to beat his ass.

That happens faster than you had expected. You had only been kissing him for a second when Dallas comes over and rips him off you.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'!" Dally yells more than he askes.

"Woah, Dal, sorry man. I—I didn't know. I swear!" the guy said back. Idiot.

"Well your lucky that I'm feelin' merciful cause if not you wouldn'tof made it home tonight." The guy quickly scurries away, and Dallas turns his cold eyes on you. You shiver, and not because of your short skirt. "The hell were you thinkin' Angela?" You hate it when he calls you by your full name.

"Well, " You begin to run a finger up and down his chest, "I saw you with that blond and I got kinda jealous. You know how I can get…" You trail off.

"Yea," he says, grabbing your wrist, "I know exactly how you can get."

"You think you know me?" You ask. You sling your other arm over his shoulder.

"Everything." His free arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer.

You lean up. "You don't know the half of it," you say quietly, but firmly.

"Prove me wrong," he responds.

His touch electrifies you in the worse way because it's like an addiction, the more you have, the more you want. Sometimes you crave it in the middle of the night, but thankfully he lives close enough to you that you can just walk over to his house and satiate your desire whenever you need to. Because no mater how hard you try, you can't replicate the pure energy that he gives you, even if he _is_ just playing a game.

It's all just a game, a sick version of cat and mouse where the roles constantly change. Sometimes it was you he chased, while other times it was you doing the chasing, and you both loved it. It kept it interesting. The two of you fight for dominance because neither of you would ever back down.

You had heard that he and Sylvia had recently had a fling, but you were better than Sylvia. She was a child, a whiny, needy child. Sure, she could play games, but you played better. That's why you and Dallas were…whatever this was. Sylvia wouldn't be a problem. She was more of a plaything than you were, an appetizer to the main course, something to fool around with until you came, but you couldn't let her get to you. You couldn't let her spoil your time with Dallas.

"Why don't we head upstairs?" You ask as you play with the hair on the back of his neck.

His hands slide down your back. "You read my mind." He retreats backwards to the stairs and you follow.

You reach his room at the same time as him. He turns around and grabs the hair on the back of your head and pulls your body flush to his. He always plays rough. You grab his shirt in your fists and slam him against the wall. He won't admit it, but you know he loves it when you take control. You press yourself against him and attack his neck, moving up to his ear. You bite and lick as your hands go under his shirt and claw down his chest. His hands go under your skirt and he realizes that you don't have anything on under it. You just know he's smirking and it kind of pisses you off, so you wiggle your fingers into the waistband of his pants, teasing him. His hands slide to the lips and you marvel at just how wet you are. His fingers pet and tease you while you do the same to him.

He suddenly stops, yanking his hands away. He quickly opens the door and yanks you in. You comply and he quickly shuts the door. You walk over to the bed, but don't sit down. He comes over to you and pushes you on to it. He grabs your thighs and spreads your legs before his hands gently prod and stroke you. He grabs the hems on your shirt in his teeth and pulls it off you. His tongue licks your neck, your chest, and then moves down your stomach where it flicks into your bellybutton. It sends a tremor through you, and you know this was his plan. His mouth replaces his hands, which are now moving to your knees. He pulls them up and over his shoulders. His mouth stops his tantalizing abuse so he can pull off your skirt.

You sit up and take off his shirt. You push him down onto the bed and he snarls curses at you. You straddle just above his hips backwards and begin working on his pants. His hands are moving up and down your back, squeezing at irregular intervals. You know he's trying to regain control and it feels so good that you give in.

He flips you over on to the bed, and grabs your legs. He stretches them over you head to where they are parallel to your torso. He spreads them slightly before he inserts two fingers.

Suddenly, the door flies open and strings of curses fill the room. You instantly turn to the door. It's Tim.

"Oh shit," you and Dally say at the same time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so here's the next chapter. This isn't going to be a regularly updated story. It's more of a story that will be updated when I have writer's block or don't want to work on another story. **

"I really don't understand why you're making such a big deal about this, Tim," you say evenly, with just a hint of annoyance.

"I caught you in bed with Dallas Winston. _Dallas fucking Winston!_ Who is one of the toughest hoods in town _and_ one of my pals," Tim replies.

"Your boyfriend, more like it," you mumble loud enough for him to hear you. He grabs your arm and whips you around to face him.

"Listen, Ange, I _ain't_ no queer! Understand?"

"Well if you ain't why are you so defensive?"

He lets go, and you can tell the only reason he hasn't punched your lights out is because you're a girl. And his sister.

"Go to hell, Angela."

"Only if you come with me!" You say over your shoulder as you flounce away. Tim won't stop you from going to see Dallas, he's just pissed that he hasn't had a decent fight in too many days. You know he's going out tonight to hunt some action, and you secretly hope that he doesn't get hurt too bad. Even if you don't show it, you care deeply for your brother. He taught you everything you know about life on the streets. He also keeps your stepfather from killing you.

You make it to the Curtis's house sooner than you thought. Dallas didn't say anything about going to Buck's tonight, so he'll probably be here. He hates having to stay over at the Curtis's. He hates having to ask for help and charity.

You open the front door and the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat slaps you in the face. It's almost as bad as Buck's because it's such a small space, but nothing can beat the smell of Buck's.

Two-Bit is the first to greet you. He grabs you around your waist and pulls you farther into the house, and by default, closer to him.

"Heya, Ange. Haven't seen you 'round here fer awhile now." His country accent is worse than usual because for the amount of alcohol he has consumed. The alcohol also makes him friskier than normal. Perfect.

"Oh, I've been around. You must've missed me," you reply leaning up against his chest. You and Two-Bit had a fling last year, so he knows all about your mind games. He said it was too much for him to be around that all the time, but he liked it every once in awhile. Like now, for instance.

"How could I ever miss a pretty face like yours?" He says as he ghosts his finger under your chin. You giggle like you know he want you too, and you feel his other hand (clutching a beer bottle) press against your lower back, almost to your ass, but not quite. "How about I take you into one a' the bedrooms and we reminisce on old time, huh?"

"Not tonight, Two-Bit," a different voice answers from behind you. Dally rests his hand on your hip, and Two-Bit gingerly lets go. Dally pulls you closer and you melt into his familiar body.

Two-Bit throws you a wink before walking away, and Dally presses hot, wet, and lusty kisses down your neck. He knows everyone of your weak spots, and he attacks each one relentlessly. He slowly moves back up your neck until he reaches your ear. "Lets finish what we started. Whatchya say?"

You quickly move you hand up to his head and twine your fingers in his hair before you pull, hard enough to elicit a response. He understands this to be a 'yes' and he forces you into the nearest vacant room. He throws you on the bed and is quickly on top of you. He seems more forceful tonight, and you can already tell you will be sore tomorrow. He tears off his shirt before he ravages your neck and collarbones. You claw his back with your nails because you know this is a serious turn on to him. He unbuttons your top, and he is not surprised at all that you aren't wearing a bra. He moves to your left breast, but instead of ravaging it like he would normally do, he slowly teases your nipple and licks around the areola. It's torture to you, so you slip a leg out from underneath him, wrap it around his hips, and force him down closer to you. He groans in annoyance that you aren't as wet as the last time.

"You'll have to work for it this time, buddy."

He moves his head down to your stomach, and you fist your hand into his hair.

His breath pauses for a moment, just like you knew it would. You tug a little harder and his top teeth run down your pelvis. You let out a strangled gasp and your other hand grips the bars of the headboard like your life depends on it. Your arch your back during his ministrations, but he just forces you down flat. You try and lay still, but it's just too hard to concentrate when he's making you feel like that, but you know it's not for your benefit. He knows that the more euphoria you feel, the more you'll give back, tenfold.

He finally raises his head and looks at you with an animalistic glint in his eyes, like a hunter looking at his prey. You let go of the headboard, sit up, and lean forward to kiss him. You pry his lips open and force your tongue in his mouth, and then you run it along every inch of his mouth. You can taste yourself in his mouth mingled with the usual taste of cigarettes and alcohol. You press yourself closer to him and your breasts mush against his chest. His breath quickens and you press closer, pushing him down onto the bed. Before he has time to react, you force yourself down on his length and then cry out in pleasure.

You know he doesn't like you being on top, but he's losing himself just as fast as you are, so he won't do anything. His hips buck up and you stay down on him, trying to get him deeper, even though it seems like he'll never be deep enough. Suddenly, he grabs your hips, pulls you up, and then thrusts you back down hard before he quickly cums. You know you'll probably have bruises and be sore, but you aren't thinking about that as cum dribbles out of you and down onto Dallas. You both stay still for a few moments before you roll off him. You pull yourself close to his chest and he flops an arm across you. You don't speak, and neither does he, but you know that next time, you'll be punished for defying him.


End file.
